The perfect antidote to distorted boombox music is Sinatra, cranked up to the hilt

As I type these words, I’m being sung to by loud, distorted, continuous bass.

It comes from the street.

And he tells me that a familiar neighbor has arrived.

If I’m lucky, he’ll only turn it on for 10 minutes or switch to another genre of music that’s just as loud but without the glass vibration.

Loud music is tolerable. Loud music with distorted bass or a limited three-note range that repeats itself over and over until the end of time is like a fly buzzing in your face.

I’m more susceptible to an impromptu concert of vibration music than most of my neighbors because I tend to have a lot of windows open.

On a scale of 1 to 100 things you should turn from a molehill to a mountain, music doesn’t even make the list.

I didn’t ask the neighbor to have his friend tone it down.

I don’t see the point.

I seriously doubt it would make much of a difference since you can hear “Thumper Man” as he turns nine doors down. Obviously, this is his business.

In addition to other loud music genres, they play from rock to traditional Latin music, which doesn’t bother me.

It’s just distorted music.

To be honest, when other music is playing, it’s often louder than the tamper.

It’s not so bad that it slips into the “scratch with your fingernails on a chalkboard” zone.

And it’s not like I’m in the middle of the desert looking for solitude.

I am in “civilization”.

Here are those engines revving like gas is 50 cents a gallon.

People broadcast their musical tastes loud enough to hold Panamanian strongman General Noriega in case he suddenly returns from the dead as they drive down Yosemite Ave.

Plus, there’s a lot of background noise, like trains going by at 60 mph, lawn workers blowing grass clippings into the street, and the occasional jerk who either celebrates the Fourth of July 40 days too late or wants to create the sounds of a Kabul firefight.

So I decided not to say anything.

Don’t misunderstand.

If it came down to it, it was really awkward, not just a little annoying, I would say something.

But this is the only “flaw” of any significant consequence when it comes to the neighbor.

And I’m sure there are things I do that annoy them.

Also, you should never go down a road you may not want to travel.

Right now, I can tolerate this music more than just a little. Why poke the bear?

There are those who belong to a school of thought, there are city rules and they should be followed.

I generally agree.

But I also understand that there are so many rules that can be applied that if they were all enforced we would either live in a borderline police state or have difficulty functioning.

Take, for example, basketball. The rules basically prohibit contact. But if you call all contacts – including random ones – after the first six minutes there will be no players left.

There are municipal noise ordinances based on noise levels in decibels.

I would venture to say that Tampere music exceeds the upper limit.

That quarter won’t help you drink a cup of coffee.

The city police do not have equipment to measure the sound level in decibels.

Nor do they have the manpower to enforce such city laws.

Also, if they wrote a citation, it’s San Joaquin County, land of get-out-of-jail-free-and-no-consequences cards.

Laws are essentially there to be used in the most egregious cases.

What my ears are dealing with is light years away from that tipping point.

So, I’ll do what most people do, which is complain to myself and try to ignore it or—if I’m particularly annoyed—mention it in passing to someone else.

Sometimes it causes a reaction like, “You shouldn’t put up with this kind of thing. The law is the law.”

This also applies to the set speed limit. But do we really want the police, if they exist, to ticket people going 36 mph?

Just as we don’t get to choose the laws we follow, we also don’t get to choose the laws we want others to follow and obey.

If you have trouble with this attitude, look in the mirror. Does the person look at you flawlessly and without habits that annoy others?

Life is a vortex of continuous pluses and minuses.

Unless you’re the Hatfields and McCoys, elevating anything you see as nuance to offense is a waste of energy and time.

However, I have my limits.

It was accessed on January 1, 1993 at 7:05 am

We lived in North Ripon Road in an old rented farmhouse.

There was also a mobile home on the other side of the barn, which the farmer was also renting out to a young couple.

A young couple decided to throw a New Year’s party with live music in an almost empty barn.

They had eight friends who apparently only knew three notes.

Did I mention that all four guitars connected to the amps are turned all the way up?

They started a little before 9 p.m

It had lost its charm hours before, but by 1am we had had enough.

I went over and asked them to reduce it.

They played even louder in response.

I came back 30 minutes later and asked again, politely I might add.

I was told while they were laughing, “f— out” and they could do whatever they wanted.

Somewhere at dawn it stopped.

Fifteen minutes later, they were knocking on our backdoor, bitterly complaining that they couldn’t sleep.

It seems they couldn’t sustain what they taught for more than 9 hours, not even 15 minutes.

I stretched out my Chevy S-10 Blazer, opened all the doors, including the tailgate, and popped in a Frank Sinatra tape on full blast.

Yes, there’s something worse than loud pounding music or snaking guitar sounds amplified to the point where they almost shatter glass, and that’s Old Blue Eyes’ rendition of “New York, New York” at the same decibel level, like a 747 taking off.

The following New Year was quiet.

A taste of your own medicine can really hurt you to act like you’re the center of the universe.

This column is the opinion of editor Dennis Wyatt and does not necessarily reflect the opinion of The Bulletin or 209 Multimedia. He can be contacted at [email protected]

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